


On the Way to the Quay

by WizardSandwich



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Banter, Gen, Guilt, costlemark was hell for me bc i went in once way before i was ready, i need you to know that prompto and ignis can be read as gay or just homies, just a little though, mentions of poverty, prompto is just the guy i project on so he's ALSO trans, this is just car banter, this is mostly just prompto banter honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28067076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardSandwich/pseuds/WizardSandwich
Summary: The car ride from Costlemark Tower back to Galdin Quay.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum & Ignis Scientia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	On the Way to the Quay

**Author's Note:**

> two things: a) the bros love dino they ARE homies and this is a prequel to another fic i plan to write technically and b) i do not pronounce quay right so the title rhymes in my head but it's only bc i keep forgetting quay is supposed to be pronounced like key

Costlemark Tower was—is—a special kind of hell that Noctis is sure he never wants to see again. Sure, they found the Sword of the Tall, but they’d also gotten lost more than once and wasted more than a few phoenix downs. Less so on their second attempt, of course, but the first time still stings in his memory.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking then, other than that they were—that _he_ was—good enough to succeed. Defeat is great for killing pride and pride is only good for almost getting your friends killed in a fool’s errand.

So they’re sweaty and tired when they get into the car, but less so than the first time. No one’s sporting any dangerous injuries this time and there was no fear of never escaping. All in all, it was a good run. Good enough that Prompto hops into the back seat, examining the gem Dino had requested.

“Dino’s gonna love this,” Prompto says cheerfully. “It’s like, super pretty. And it has great luster.”

Gladio snorts, “Yeah, well, this thing had better been worth going back into Costlemark. I still have scars from the last time.”

Prompto huffs, lowering his hand, “We were gonna go back in anyway, big guy. It’s not like Noctis was going to give up once he realized where the Sword went.”

Gladio hums in acknowledgement, sinking down into his seat. “Fair enough,” he says. “That’s how many now? Nine?”

Prompto turns his eyes to the sky, gem still in hand. Carefully, he starts to count on his fingers, “Uh, okay, let’s see. We got the one from the first tomb. Then the one from the ice cave and the one from those woods. That’s three.”

“Four counting Noctis’s sword,” Ignis says. “Then there’s the one from Ravatogh. And, of course, the Balouve Mines.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Noctis groans. “If I never have to see another imp again.”

Gladio chuckles, “At least it wasn’t like when we went into that necromancer infested cave. There wasn’t even an arm there.”

“My mistake,” Noctis says dryly. “It’s just that all of the other tombs were in dangerous caves.”

“A fair mistake,” Ignis acknowledges. “It’s not as if we know where they all are and it’s very unlikely we’ll find them all before we have to leave. The number we’ve found is eight, by the way.”

“Only eight? It feels like we’ve been through a million dungeons,” Prompto says dramatically, throwing his hands in the air.

“Certainly,” Ignis agrees. “Now, hands down. It’s going to rain and I need to put up the roof before we all get soaked.”

“And put that freaking gem away before you lose it,” Gladio says.

Prompto lowers his hands with a huff, “Yeah, yeah, big guy. I’m not going to lose it. I think Iggy will kill me if I do.”

“If I ever see those wretched ruins again, it will be too soon.”

“See?” Prompto makes a gesture toward Ignis, his express reading a “what did I tell you?” as if Ignis has just made a threat in full. Perhaps he has. He and Prompto seem to always have some sort of unspoken understanding.

“Don’t worry, Prom, it’ll be a nice funeral,” Noctis says.

“You guys are the worst.” Promtpo rolls his eyes as if to make a point, but all it does is add to the whole “wronged chocobo” thing he has going on. “Anyway, are we going to stop in Galdin? I like sleeping in the car as much as the next guy, but we might as well head there straight away and kill two birds with one stone.”

“I don’t even think you could kill one bird,” Gladio says dryly, teasing.

“Now, that’s not fair,” Ignis chimes in, “Prompto is very good at killing thunderocs.”

“Maybe.”

“But that’s an excellent idea, Prompto,” Ignis continues. “I’m sure that the caravan wouldn’t mind having us.”

“Not the caravan,” Prompto whines. “There’s barely enough room in there for Gladio’s hulking mass.”

“It’s not my fault they’re all designed for twigs like you,” Gladio says.

“Besides, we have all these savings. Why not spend big?” Prompto asks, ignoring Gladio.

“Do you remember what happened the last time we had ‘all these savings?’” Ignis lets his eyes slip pointedly to Noctis for only a moment before he’s looking at the road again.

“Hey, those weapons were a good investment,” Noctis defends. “Durandal has saved us more times that I can count and those daggers of yours have come in handy.”

“I was talking about how you spent our savings immediately after that on zu tender and fishing supplies.”

Noctis really doesn’t have a good defense for that one, other than he knows that one of Ignis’ favorite dishes includes zu tender. The fishing supplies were a definite lapse in judgement. He remember panicking about what to sell from their elemancy supplies. He also remembers selling so much fish that it practically broke his heart.

“Sorry,” Noctis says, guilt about that particular moment of idiocy creeping up on him.

“Don’t worry about it now,” Ignis says. “We’ve come out fine. But, still, it’s good to have savings just in case.”

“So? We’ve got like one hundred twenty thousand gil. That’s more gil than I’ve ever seen in my life. Three thousand for one of those nice rooms barely makes a dent,” Prompto tries to persuade.

Noctis can see Ignis’ face soften. It’s easy, sometimes, to forget that Prompto grew up outside of the Citadel, that he isn’t the kind of person who can afford nice sheets and not worry when his sleeves tear.

Noctis distinctly remembers a day when Prompto was sewing up the sleeve of a pink shirt instead of playing video games, claiming it a gift but also not knowing if his family would have enough money to replace it. Ignis had shown up later, taken one look at Prompto’s patching, and shown him how to do it right. Ignis perhaps came the closest to understanding Prompto because of his position, but even then they were still worlds apart at times.

“We’ll see,” Ignis says. It’s not a promise but it’s close enough.

“Ah, yeah!” Prompto cheers, as if Ignis has already given in. Noctis supposes he has. “You’re the best, Iggy.”

“You’d best remember it,” Ignis says.

Whatever guilt Noctis had felt about dragging his friends into a deadly maze fades, just a bit. They’re not dying or angry or upset. In fact, they all seem to be in good spirits. It’s good and almost makes Noctis feel normal again.

He can have this, for now.


End file.
